The end of March covered the cemetery in the village of Lypivka, near Poltava, with a gray, heavy sky, but the air breathed warm unity. Villagers gathered to say goodbye to six-year-old Solomiya Kravets, whose life ended too soon. Almost all the residents of Lypiv came, and their common grief wove an invisible bond of love and memory. The girl’s father, Andriy Kravets, stood near a small white coffin, feeling an indescribable emptiness in his chest. But there was a community nearby that sincerely supported him, as if embracing him with the warmth of their hearts.
The ceremony was nearing its climax when suddenly something incredible happened. A majestic shepherd named Buran burst out of the crowd, his eyes burning with determination. Ignoring the calls of the owner, the dog rushed to the coffin, causing surprised cries among those present. With a grace reminiscent of magic, he jumped onto the coffin, his body trembling but standing firm, as if the embodiment of loyalty. “Take that dog away!” someone shouted, but Buran did not heed. When the trainer approached with a leash, the dog bared his teeth, showing a rare stubbornness that made everyone freeze.
This was watched by Igor Stepanov, a veteran with a keen eye who saw more than others. He felt that Buran was not just sad — the dog was signaling something, as if he was trying to protect Solomiya. “He’s here for a reason,” Igor muttered, his voice trembling with anticipation. Solomiya was a ray in Lypivka: her golden hair, decorated with an embroidered ribbon, and her eyes, which changed like the waters of Vorskla in spring, made her everyone’s favorite. Despite the epilepsy that appeared after an accident at the age of three, the girl remained bright. She once told her father, “Animals don’t laugh when you fall, they just wait for you to get up.”
Her optimism was an example of invincibility. Solomiya found solace in friendship with animals, reminding everyone of the power of unconditional love. Her story, despite the tragedies, was full of hope. Like Buran, who guarded her coffin, we can support each other, proving that love knows no bounds. Andriy Kravets was once a famous veterinarian in Poltava, but after the loss of his wife Olena three years ago, his world dimmed. At the age of 42, gray hair and deep wrinkles spoke of his pain.
After Olena’s death, Andriy could not work in the veterinary clinic where they built dreams together. He became a medical records specialist, working from home to take care of Solomiya. Despite the debts for medicines that he had to buy in Poltava pharmacies, and the fear of each new day, he held on to Olena’s words: “Live one day.” This mantra gave him strength. And then Buran, a traumatized shepherd saved from cruelty, entered their lives, along with Igor Stepanov, Elena’s brother, whose stern appearance hid a kind heart.
Igor Stepanov, in a faded jacket and tattoos peeking out from under the cuffs, seemed stern, but his eyes betrayed a deep sensitivity. He was Elena’s brother, with whom the family lost contact after his return from the war. Igor struggled with his own demons, but a fateful meeting three years ago, on the anniversary of Elena’s death, changed everything. That day, Andriy and Solomiya went on their annual walk to the forest near Vorskla, where wild lilies of the valley — Olena’s favorite flowers — grew.
Solomiya insisted on collecting a bouquet of lilies of the valley, strong and delicate, like the memory of her mother. Andriy checked his daughter’s medical bag: medicines, doctors’ contacts, a special helmet for protection. The path led through tall pine trees, whose branches rustled in the spring wind. Solomiya ran ahead, her laughter echoing like bells, but Andriy was careful not to run far away. In the lawn where Elena once photographed sunsets, they laid flowers on a small stone altar. “Dad, do you hear?” asked Solomiya suddenly, bowing her head.
At first, Andrei did not notice anything, but then he saw movement. Under the branches lay a shepherd’s puppy, no older than three months, covered in dirt, blood, and adhering leaves. His paw was twisted unnaturally, and there were traces of burns on his skin, traces of human cruelty. “Dad, he hurts like I did after the accident,” Solomiya said, her eyes shining with tears. “We have to save him!”
Andrew listened, but heard only the whispering of leaves and the singing of birds. But Solomiya, with childish curiosity, felt something unusual. “Dad, there’s someone there, I can hear you!” she exclaimed as she ran forward. Andrew rushed after her, his heart pounding with anxiety. Catching up, he saw his daughter near a fallen tree. “Don’t be afraid, we’ll help,” she whispered, addressing someone.
Andrew smiled, feeling how the name fit perfectly. The nearest veterinary clinic was closed for repairs, so he took the puppy to the Good Paws shelter in Poltava, known for its care of animals, where he once left his tools. The director there, Oksana, met them at the entrance. “Immediately to the examination room!” she commanded, assessing Buran’s condition. In the room where Andriy’s familiar instruments were located, Oksana confirmed: “Fractures, dehydration, burns. This is not an accident, this is bullying.”
While the X-ray was being prepared, Solomiya sat next to Buran, whispering fairy tales to him. Her presence soothed the puppy, who, despite the pain, did not take his eyes off her. “I’ve never seen such a connection,” Oksana said in surprise.
